


You're Being Emotional

by DonnaClaireHolmes



Category: Enola Holmes (2020), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cocaine, Drug Use, Gen, Mentions of Blood, Nosebleeds, Overdose, Seizures, Sherlock Holmes and Drug Use, Sherlock Whump, Vomiting, description of overdose, fluff at the end i promise, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:07:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26777122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DonnaClaireHolmes/pseuds/DonnaClaireHolmes
Summary: Where Enola has moved in with Sherlock, and a new habit of his begins to scare her.
Relationships: Enola Holmes & Eudoria Vernet Holmes, Enola Holmes & Sherlock Holmes
Comments: 10
Kudos: 147





	You're Being Emotional

Dash was sitting proudly in a bookshelf in the main hall. A vase of chrysanthemums and laurustinus were placed in the front sitting room, the curtains drawn back and the first rays of sun brightened the area. Even with the few gentle touches of a woman, 221B Baker Street still had it’s odds and ends from its owner lying around. Random test tubes filled with various liquids were scattered at one side of the kitchen, as well as jars of chemicals and other substances whose names were hardly pronounceable. Swords and other various weaponry could be found in any room in the entire apartment, even under the loose floorboard in Sherlock’s own room. 

Across the hall from his room was a small guest room. He had mainly used it for storage. Countless case files, books, and random papers had been thrown about. But ever since the detective invited his younger sister Enola to live with him, he resigned to keeping his papers in the corner of the room. 

Enola had refused at first, of course. She still had plenty of reward money from Lady Tewkesbury and was content on her own. It wasn’t until an incident with one of her housemates that her brother insisted she lived with him. The gentleman who lived below her was caught in a fraud scandal, and the young female detective thought it best to move before anyone could drag her into the chaos. 

It had been two weeks and life had been relatively easy. Sherlock had been on a case which occupied most of his time. Enola would ask him about it whenever he managed a moment to come home, change his clothes, or grab a bite to eat if he was lucky enough. 

“It’s a sensitive case, Enola. I can’t discuss it with anyone. I’m sorry.” He would say every time to the point that Enola would recite it with him as he spoke. Sherlock stopped the excuses after that, opting to just say “I’m sorry.”

Sherlock had returned one evening as Enola was trying to teach herself how to play the violin, and went straight up to his bedroom. She trailed behind him slightly till the door was closed and locked in front of her. Enola tried not to think too much into it, trying to force herself to believe he had a long day or something. Anything to get her to sleep better. 

The next morning, Enola woke and had put the kettle on as the first rays of sunrise streamed through the apartment. She smiled as she heard footsteps coming down the stairs, setting the cups for the two of them on the small table in the kitchen. Two lumps of sugar and a splash of cream were distributed in each cup as Sherlock entered looking… Well, not looking himself. 

His eyes were far more dilated than they should’ve been, even if he had just woken up. He also was sniffing frequently, as if his nose was constantly running, and just seemed tense but alert. Enola didn’t want to assume anything, but her concern for Sherlock grew as he refused to sit down. Tea was poured and fresh scones were laid on a platter in the middle of the table. Enola sat with a small smile, trying to entice her brother in. 

She had begun breaking open her scone and spreading orange marmalade on one side when Sherlock finally joined her, pulling his cup of tea closer to him and holding his hands firmly around it. 

“Morning.”

“Hmm.” 

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

He replied simply by shaking his head and looking down at his cup before taking a curious sip. Something had happened last night, and as much as she wanted to respect Sherlock’s privacy, she was concerned for his well being. 

“You don’t need to answer me, but,” His eyes shot up to meet hers as she spoke, eyebrows raising slightly, “I’m worried you’re ill. I know this case has been making you run on fumes, so I was hoping today you’d just stay home and take some time to rest.” 

“I finished the case last night.” Sherlock said as his eyes snapped back down as quickly as they were raised. He sniffed once more before grabbing his handkerchief and dabbing at his nose, trying and failing to hide the surprise he felt when the fabric came away with a few drops of blood on it. 

“Sherlock? Oh, God, Sherlock you’re bleeding.” Enola snapped out of her seat and immediately grabbed the handkerchief and held it at his nose. “Here, pinch the bridge of your nose like this.” She brought his hand up and placed it accordingly, then helped tilt his head down slightly. 

It took several minutes for the bleeding to stop, after which Enola insisted she help her brother back up to his bed, and for him to take it easy for the day. She was even more worried he had fallen ill while on the case and had been hiding it from her. 

“Enola, please… I can walk perfectly fine.” Sherlock tried to enter his room alone, but his younger sister insisted, walking alongside him with a gentle hand on his back. After helping him into bed and propping a few pillows behind his head so he wasn’t entirely horizontal, Enola ran back downstairs to fetch a pitcher of water and a glass. When she had returned, Sherlock was already fast asleep with a clean handkerchief clutched tightly in one hand just in case. 

Enola sighed with a soft smile, turning to her brother’s desk and placing the pitcher and glass on top. As she was about to leave a small reflection of light caught her attention. The source was coming from Sherlock’s desk drawer which had been cracked slightly open. She gently and quietly pulled open the drawer to find a small spoon, a syringe, and a small black box. 

Checking back to make sure her brother was in fact asleep, Enola opened the box to find a finely ground white powder. She sighed before placing the box back as she found it and exited the room, returning shortly after with her sketching materials. If Sherlock had done what she feared he had, then she wanted to keep a close eye on him for her own peace of mind. 

She noticed on a few occasions that his heart rate spiked to an abnormally fast pace for a sleeping man. As much as she wanted to wake him, she refrained, realizing that sleep was probably the best thing for Sherlock in the moment. 

He had remained asleep until dusk, finally stirring slightly and cracking his eyes open slightly to see Enola sitting on the bed next to him, a book in her hands. Of course she had gotten up several times since that morning, but she remained in his room as much as possible. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, something she hadn’t heard all day. Enola closed the book and turned to her brother. 

“Sherlock?”

“Mmm.”

“What was that?” He cracked open his eyes once more and turned his head slightly. With another sigh, Sherlock took Enola’s hand in his and gently squeezed it. 

“Nothing you need to be concerned about.” He whispered.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Of course he was lying. Of course he was putting his health at risk for the sake of a quick fix. But he couldn’t bear to tell Enola that. In his mind, he only used when he wasn’t on a case. So he simply had to find another case. Except it wasn’t so simple. 

Not even Lestrade of Scotland Yard had anything that Sherlock deemed worthy of his attention. The next week came and went, as well as two more with nothing but a simple disappearance and a basic robbery. Sherlock was itching for a new case, any case at this point, but his attempts were futile to say the least. 

Enola, on the other hand, had been rather busy trying to not lose her mind over her brother's drug habit. It felt as if she had just begun a proper sibling relationship with him, and here he was trying to waste away in solitude. She couldn’t ask Mycroft and thought Lestrade would be too consumed elsewhere to help. Left with her last resort, Enola crafted a brief message for the papers:

NJDSBZL KW MBPKUO.  
BLUBSG OKBL  
LRARBZFKULXMZJ. 

But there would be a small chance of that lead even working out… In a meantime, Enola had insisted on staying near Sherlock as much as possible without aggravating him too much. He had a tendency to become abnormally agitated and apathetic since the first incident, well, more so than normal. 

One night was particularly brutal. Sherlock had arrived home from Scotland Yard after a missing persons case had gone cold and promptly threw his pipe into a mirror in the main hall, smashing the glass to pieces. Enola had been reading in the sitting room, and had sprinted out just in time to see her brother trudging up the stairs, entering his room, and locking the door behind him. 

“Sherlock?” Enola rapped at the door gently, hoping to get some sort of response. “Please, open the door… I only want to talk.” 

Enola received no response. She pressed her ear to the door just in time to hear her brother lighting a candle, as well as the sound of him ruffling through his desk drawer. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized what he was going to do. She sprinted downstairs and tore through all the drawers in the kitchen, the study, the sitting room. There had to be spare keys somewhere in the apartment. 

Meanwhile, Sherlock was already beyond the point of stopping. Sat on the floor next to his bed, he had an elastic band tied around his bicep, poking at his arm to try and find a vein. Once found, he grabbed the syringe he had been holding in his mouth and, without a second thought, injected the solution into his arm. 

Enola was only a few seconds too late. She pushed the door open after finding a spare key and skid on her knees at her brother's side, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks. Sherlock’s eyes were closed and his head was leaning back against the bed, but he was breathing. She sighed as she grabbed the syringe and placed it on the desk. Enola then removed the elastic band from Sherlock’s arm and used a handkerchief to dab the small droplet of blood from the crook of his elbow. 

She sighed in relief when his eyelids began to flutter, taking a moment to feel his temperature and pulse. Enola frowned at both signs, finding his temperature slightly warmer and his pulse slightly faster. The youngest Holmes tried not to overreact even though this was her first experience with drug use. Her best option at the moment was to watch her brother like a hawk once again, and praying that nothing horrible comes from this. 

The first thing he felt when coming to was a cool hand on his forehead, and a few fingers on his wrist. He smirked slightly and opened his eyes, seeing his younger sister hovering over him. 

“First a detective and now a doctor…. You should get your license to practice.” Enola glared in response to his comment before sighing and sitting across from him. Once he had more of his wits about him, he scanned his immediate area; the candle still sat lit next to him, but everything else had vanished, including the small black box. 

Sherlock attempted to stand as his eyes continued to dart around the room, even as Enola attempted to sit him back down. His pupils were so dilated that it was difficult to even see any blue in his eyes. The man shook his head as if to clear it while he obeyed his sister and sat back down on the floor. 

“We need to talk.” She tried to remain calm, but was so worried about her brother’s wellbeing that her eyes began to water slightly. He noticed. 

“You’re being emotional…”

“Sherlock this isn’t a joke!” Enola snapped back louder than she had imagined. Sherlock couldn’t hold her gaze, opting to look at the candle instead. 

“I know.” He said, barely above a whisper before a shiver overtook his body and his face paled. Enola recognized the look and grabbed a wastebasket, thrusting it under his chin just in time to catch his vomit. After another minute of retching, Sherlock leaned his head against Enola’s shoulder. 

After propping her brother back up to get another good look at him, Enola gasped to find a faint tint of blue in Sherlock’s complexion. He looked around once more, seemingly not able to find what he wanted to focus on. His eyes snapped to meet Enola’s as he began taking shorter breaths.

“Enola…” Sherlock managed to whisper before his eyes rolled up and fluttered, his body falling over and convulsing on the floor. His head nearly slammed against his bed post if Enola hadn’t blocked its path. 

Thinking quickly, she grabbed a pillow off of his bed and placed it under his head before he could slam it against the floor. Then, as gently as possible, she turned her brother onto his side just as he vomited once again. If asked how she felt in this moment, Enola would’ve said that terrified would be an understatement. 

How could her genius brother do something so incredibly stupid to his body? Why didn’t he feel comfortable enough to share his feelings with his sister in the first case? These were just a few of the questions swimming around Enola’s mind as she sat at Sherlock’s head, holding one of his hands in hers as the other brushed his hair off of his forehead. 

After what felt like an eternity, but in reality was only two minutes, Sherlock’s convulsions finally slowed and then stopped completely. Enola let out a sob of relief as she checked his pulse once more. Still fast, but nothing like it was when she first entered. He was breathing. He would be fine. 

Enola allowed herself a moment of calm before shifting down to lay face to face with her brother. His face seemed calm, its normal colors returning slowly. She stayed down with him, stroking her thumb against the back of his hand. 

That is, until a knock came from the back door.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer; the only medical knowledge I have is from doctor shows and google search.... sorry for any inaccuracies. 
> 
> Also! Bonus points if you can decipher the message Enola left in the newspaper!
> 
> This took me longer to write that expected, and I've yet to start chapter 2, so I apologize in advance for how long the fluff is going to take.


End file.
